Never Grow Up
by samwinchestergirl33
Summary: On the Eve of her eighteenth birthday, Clare receives a visitor at her window. Panwards Peter Pan/Clare Edwards. Three Shot
1. Part One

Never Grow Up

**Summary: On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Clare Edwards receives a visitor at her window.**

**Rating: Teen**

**Pairing: Clare/Peter Pan, Drew/OC, lost boys/Clare friendships, mentions of Cladam friendship. Clew Friendship.**

**Author's Note: This idea came out of an idea KatieCTalksAlot on tumblr and I had. She is making a Peter/Clare gifset and I decided to write a fic. Aislinn and Robbie are both so cute and the idea of a Pan/Clare crossover is really intriguing.**

**three shot**

Clare Edwards stalked into her bedroom, blue eyes red and swollen. She dropped her flats to the floor and fell back on the bed. Today had been hard. It was the first time since Adam had died that she'd been in his room at the Torres home. His parents had wanted to clean it out, finally having the strength to do so after all of these months. As soon as she'd stepped into the room, a wave of sadness had washed over her. The room still looked as if Adam still lived and slept in it. The bed was unmade, some clothes were on the floor, posters hung on the walls. As she'd walked in farther, she saw a picture that Drew had snapped of she, Imogen, and Adam, silly wigs on their heads, eyes filled with laughter. It had been taken in the hospital during the summer when she'd been sick. Imogen, Drew, and Adam had been lifesavers. They'd taken her mind off of things. They'd let her talk about her fears. She had known that if she was taking it hard, Drew must be taking it even harder so she reached out a hand, grabbing his, purple fingernails standing out against his hand as she squeezed it, reassuringly.

After cleaning out the room, Drew and Clare had went downstairs to the basement and just talked about Adam for hours on end. She had just gotten back home a few minutes ago.

Sighing, she went to the bathroom, grabbing her pajamas along the way, after removing her makeup and settling into her PJs, she squeezed the counter to calm herself. When she'd agreed to be there for Drew for morale support as Adam's room was cleared out, she hadn't been prepared for the onslaught of emotions. She wished that things could go back to the way they were. She really didn't want to turn eighteen, tomorrow. She most especially didn't want to celebrate a birthday when her best friend was dead. Things had really been sucking, recently. Between having cancer, Adam's death, Cam's death, Eli cheating, Alli's abusive boyfriend, Asher, and today, she was so tired. Things hadn't been this hard when she was fourteen. Back then, she, Alli, Connor, and KC—even Jenna, were innocent. They'd just been stupid kids, going through the motions. Now, they'd been forced to grow up so fast. It was a wonder that they weren't all lost.

Heading back to her room, Clare grabbed her Peter Pan dvd off of the shelf and slipped it into her dvd player, climbing into bed. As she watched, she couldn't help but think of how wonderful it would be to never grow up. To be in Neverland with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. She didn't think she'd ever leave like Wendy did, if that happened. Sighing sadly, she closed her eyes. It was too bad that was just a fairytale.

—

Peter Pan couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips, green eyes narrowed as he stared into the bedroom window of the unfamiliar teenage girl. He was going to give her what she wished. It was a good thing he had the tools of trickery. His coward son and all of the residents of Storybrooke might believe him to be dead, but he wasn't. However, he wasn't going to cause mischief there. They weren't fun play things anymore. Over the past few months, he'd been gathering up new lost boys to replace the one's he'd lost. All he needed now was another Wendy. And this Clare girl seemed like the perfect choice.

He reached out a long fingered hand to open the window, making sure the teen was still asleep as he opened it, flying in. He looked around curiously, smirking wickedly as he took in the posters on the walls and the photographs on the desk. Teddy bears and other stuffed animals were on a small shelf nearby. It was certainly the picture of innocence. Though two different centuries, Wendy's room had been much the same way.

Clare groaned as he felt a cool breeze hit her cheeks, burrowing herself farther into the covers and bringing her knees up to her chest. Had it been this chilly earlier? She didn't recall it being so. Sighing, her eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the darkness. Her eyes widened in horror at the figure that stood over her, face so close to her own. Before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth.

Peter grinned at her, sitting on the bed, sharp teeth glinting. "It's best if you stay quiet."

The teen gave him a glare, raising a leg to knock him off balance and off of the bed. "Who the hell _are_ you?

His smirk grew. "I'm Peter. Peter Pan."


	2. part two

**Never Grow Up**

**Part Two:**

**Probably gonna be a four shot**

Peter smirked, arms crossing over his chest as he stared at the girl in front of him. Her legs were bare and one of the spaghetti straps of her pajama top slipped down her shoulders. The girl was glaring at him, pretty lips set in a frown.

"Peter Pan isn't real." She scoffed, grabbing the book off her end table and throwing it at him.

He laughed, dodging it quickly, flying a few inches off of the ground. "Actually, I'm quite real. How else do you suppose I got through a second story window?"

"Well then where's Tinkerbelle? Peter Pan always brought along Tinkerbelle when he visited children." Clare didn't even seem to notice how he floated, nor did she seem to be thinking of calling the police. Something she'd have done if she were thinking straight.

"Your fairytales get more things wrong than they do right." Peter answered her, giving her a wicked sneer as he thought of how those books and movies had written him. An annoying little boy who had _cared_ for Wendy and the lost boys. How utterly ridiculous! Love wasn't a term he believed in. If he had, wouldn't he have stayed an adult and raised Rumplestilskin? He was the prince of Neverland. He couldn't afford to _care _for others. He moved forward, feet not making a sound on the ground, wrapping his hand around her wrist, pulling her towards the window. Without another word, he flew out of it, feeling her hand clawing at his hand.

—

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Clare shrieked, smacking him in the chest angrily and glaring up at him, not noticing that she and Peter were now outside in a place that was definitely not Canada.

Seven children, ranging from sixteen to six stood behind the bushes, staring at the scene before them with wide eyes. No girl that Peter had brought with him before had stood up to him like this one did. Emily, Maria, and Katelyn had left pretty much as soon as they had come. Emily and Maria had died by Peter's hand while Katelyn had left on her own. They had no clue what had happened to her. The smallest and youngest of them, Sam, ran out, dark brown eyes wide as he hurried to the girl, throwing his arms around her.

Clare jumped at the feel of tiny arms around her waist and looked down, startled. She smiled and knelt down before the child, ignoring Peter who was glaring at them both. "Hey." She said, giving him a beaming smile, the anger washing away from her face. "What's your name?"

The little boy wouldn't let go of her, dimples flashing as he grinned shyly. "Sam." He uttered, wrapping his arms around her neck to be picked up.

The young woman immediately filled that request, picking him up as she stood. As Sam rested his head on her shoulder, Clare couldn't help but wonder just how many kids Peter Pan had taken from their homes. How long had they been here? She thought perhaps, she should ask him these questions a little bit later. One thing was for sure, she certainly believed him, now.

—

The fight that Peter Pan encouraged between his older lost boys was yet another glimpse for Clare that Peter was nothing like he'd been in her fairytales.

Ryan and Leigh—-a sixteen year old, tomboyish lost girl were currently fighting with their swords. Leigh, did a quick spin, slashing at Ryan's arm as the hood of her plain, brown, cloak slid off her head, revealing unruly, pale blonde hair. She let out a crow of accomplishment, dropping her sword to the ground and falling onto a rock.

Clare had to stop herself from going over to Ryan and helping him deal with his bloodied arm. She didn't think the boy would want her help. Besides, it wasn't as if she could get up, anyway. Not with Sam and his seven year old sister, fast asleep on her lap. She let her gaze drift to Peter who's face was illuminated by the flames of the fire in front of them. He was quite attractive, admittedly. She supposed that there was one thing the film with Jeremy Sumpter had gotten right. "Um, Peter?" She asked, swallowing hard as everyone began to clear out. "When are you going to take me back home?"

The look that Peter gave her chilled her to the bone as he moved forward, into her space. His hot breath hits her ear as he whispered, "Never. No one ever leaves Neverland. Not unless they're dead."

—-

"So, how long have you been here?" Clare asked of Leigh, looking at the blonde and biting her lip.

Leigh shrugged. "About four months, give or take. I don't really remember."

"That doesn't make any sense." Clare said, shaking her head in confusion. "How can you not remember exactly when you got here? You were taken away from your family."

"Time passes quickly here, Blue." She answered, pulling her blonde locks into a ponytail. "Besides, I don't really miss anyone. Word of advice? I wouldn't let Peter know that you don't like it here. He wouldn't take it too kindly." With that, she closed her eyes to sleep.


End file.
